


Lydia Deetz: Murderer

by NobodyOfficial



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice the musical - Fandom
Genre: Gen, i don't have a lot of stuff to tag, kinda funny but not that funny 'cause I'm not funny, mental health, post-musical, theyre like siblings they're fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 17:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobodyOfficial/pseuds/NobodyOfficial
Summary: She'd killed him.Not only had she killed him, but she'd done it while he had a pulse and motor function and working lungs.If Beetlejuice was a monster then so was Lydia.-I don't know what I'm doing, I can't summarise for shit. Basically Lydia calls The Mighty B and they chat a bit and it's like musical meets pre-animated series.





	Lydia Deetz: Murderer

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still getting used to these guys, bear with me.

Life was probably a liminal space.

If the afterlife was eternal, and if you were careful it was, then that would make it the main attraction. The show. Life was just the previews.

Very few things that were possible in life were impossible in the afterlife. Plus, there was the added bonus of having your entire family together, the complete annihilation of any fear of death, and free sailing on a lake of fire.

So overall the afterlife was pretty great. In fact, killing someone would probably be doing them a favour, right?

Right?

That’s what Lydia tried to tell herself as she lay awake at night, staring into the expansive oblivion above her bed. Beetlejuice was disgusting and manipulative. He wasn’t even human. He almost certainly would’ve murdered all of them on the spot had Lydia not killed him first.

But still, he’d bled when she stabbed him. Thick and sticky, it had dripped down the sculpture and seeped into her finger prints. Later she’d stood over the sink, scrubbing her hands like Lady MacBeth to wash away the murderous prints.

Eventually the sculpture had jarred against his ribs, but not before it punctured through several organs. They’d popped like balloons, barely having had the chance to fill with blood.

It had seemed like such a simple plan while he was still a demon: a green-haired, ghostly-pale inhuman thing that just wanted to murder. But the person Lydia had killed, and he had been a person, had had fluffy, chestnut hair and plump, rosy cheeks like a newborn baby. Even the murderous glint in his eyes, once deranged and all-consuming, had softened to allow wonder to take its place.

Lydia had killed a person, and she hadn’t slept since.

There were several logical solutions to quell the guilt that now wracked Lydia daily: therapy, sharing with her family, reassurance from the Maitlands that really she’d done everyone a favour, because they were the nicest people she knew, and if they thought murder was alright then it must be.

There was also just one very dangerous, very illogical, potentially very life-threatening solution.

Lydia sat up, alleviating the existential pressure that had been pinning her to the mattress. On a whim she leaned across to her dresser and grabbed a red poncho to cover her pyjamas. Then she reached a hand under the bed and pulled out her chainsaw. It couldn’t hurt to have the upper hand. Or... the upper saw?

Kneeling on the edge of her bed, chainsaw poised to strike, Lydia stared dead ahead and concentrated.

“Beetlejuice.”

Her parents would be furious. The last time she’d summoned Beetlejuice he’d killed her father’s business partner right in front of them. Was she responsible for his death, too? Beetlejuice couldn’t have done it without her.

“Beetlejuice.”

The Maitlands hated him. He was pushy, perverted, and, now at least, late: three things they hated. They looked out for Lydia even when her own parents didn’t, she despised the idea of causing them any harm.

But the Maitlands hadn’t killed Beetlejuice. Lydia had.

“Beetlejuice.”

Something like a small, pathetic firework crackled in the air then he appeared, larger than death, in the middle of Lydia’s room. A green tinge had returned to his hair and his skin was back to its chalky parlour. And he was holding a dismembered penis in his hand.

“You really know when to catch a guy at a bad time, babes!” Beetlejuice exclaimed, shaking the dick in his fist.

“That’s disgusting,” Lydia hissed, conscious not to wake anyone up. She brandished the chainsaw, but Beetlejuice just laughed.

“Chainsaw? Really?” He tossed the penis over his shoulder where it slapped against the floorboards. Lydia focused on his face, a marginally less disgusting sight. “I’m already dead, what’s that gonna do?”

“I-“ Lydia looked between the chainsaw and Beetlejuice. What was she going to do? Kill him? Maim him? The fact that she couldn’t didn’t change the fact that she hadn’t even flinched at the idea. “I don’t-“

“So, what’d’ya call me for, babes?” Beetlejuice clasped his hands together in glee. “Want me to kill someone? Torture someone? Scare the shit out of someone?” He gasped theatrically, eyes wide, then leaned in and whispered, “Finally wanna off your dad?”

“No.” Lydia leaned back. Beetlejuice didn’t smell much better than she remembered. “Actually, I just wanted to say sorry.”

“Sorry?” Beetlejuice frowned; struck a thoughtful pose. “Sorry?” He’d switched to a sophisticated, really rather accomplished, British accent. “And what would the young lady being apologising for?”

“Well, I killed you-“ Lydia started.

“Killed me!” Beetlejuice doubled over in mock laughter. “You hear that,” he yelled at no one in particular, “This little girl thinks she killed me! Oh Lydia, I’m already dead. I always have been.”

“Yes, but when we got married-“ She cringed at the memory, “That brought you to life. I killed a real, living person.”

“Sure, but I was like thirty seconds old. That’s just like killing a baby: it doesn’t count.”

“It most certainly does!”

“I guess you’re not as horrible as I thought.”

Beetlejuice‘s words smashed into Lydia’s chest like an out-of-bounds baseball. Her voice wavered. “You think I’m horrible?”

“Well, yeah babes.” Beetlejuice spun around and plopped himself down on the bed beside her. She was too desolate to even tell him to move his creepy ass.

“Why?”

“You summoned me for a start. And of course I think I’m the ghost with the most,” he placed a hand proudly over his still heart, “But I’m also, y’know, the worst. And then we went on that killing spree together, that was great-“

“I did not kill anyone!” Lydia exclaimed.

“You helped build our haunted house. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Lydia allowed her chainsaw to drop to the bed. Why had she thought this would help? Suddenly everything was so much worse. Instead of apologising for her one crime of passion she now found herself with a sizeable death toll.

She started to cry.

Lydia hadn’t cried since her mother died. She had thought nothing could ever tear her heart to shreds like that again, but she’d been wrong. The knowledge that she’d inflicted the pain she’d felt after losing her mom on half a dozen other families, for the sake of nothing more than a bit of fun, shattered her soul.

“Hey Lydia, what’re you doing?” Beetlejuice asked with reproach, scooting away from her as if she had a contagious disease. Actually, he’d probably like that. “Your eyes are dripping this funny, clear liquid. Are you dying?” His eyes lit up. “I hope you are; we can have so much fun together! I’ve always wanted a sister!”

“I’m, I’m not dying,” Lydia croaked, wiping her eyes. Crying in front of someone didn’t become less embarrassing because they were dead. “I’m just upset.”

“Oh.” Lydia watched with fascination as once again the murderous fury that burned in Beetlejuice’s eyes faded away. “Yeah, I know how that feels. Because you killed me?”

“Because I killed lots of people, apparently.”

“Well, if it means anything to ya, I totally would’ve gone on a mass killing spree if you hadn’t javelined me. Kinda did Connecticut a favour there.”

Was he... No... Was he comforting her? This eccentric, gremlin-like, street-rat of a demon was trying to make her feel okay? Lydia took a deep breath to try and figure out if she was dreaming or not, but her lungs filled with air and the mattress seemed pretty solid to the touch.

“And to be honest being alive wasn’t that great anyway. My clothes smell terrible and I think my tongue’s completely rotten.” He stuck out his tongue, a disgusting, diseased shade of purple, and shook his head like a dog after a swim. “Overall it was kind of nauseating, made me feel sick.”

“I think that’s just because your stomach’s full of dead things from the Netherworld,” Lydia said with a small smile.

“Shall we find out?”

Lydia watched with morbid fascination as Beetlejuice tore his arm off, which detached with a sickening tear, and began to lower it down his throat. “No, no, no!” She exclaimed as she came to her senses. “Please don’t remove your stomach!”

“Ugh,” Beetlejuice pulled his arm back up, “Fine.” Then, with a sly grin, he added, “Hey! No gag reflex!” And stuck the arm down his throat a couple more times.

Lydia gagged and looked away. But there was a light, tingly feeling in her chest that told her that if she wasn’t about to throw up she’d probably be laughing.

“And if it helps-“ With a squelch and a click Beetlejuice reattached his arm, “I let that little Girl Scout go. She was a feisty little breather, thought she deserved a chance.”

“I don’t think you’re that bad, really,” Lydia said tentatively, turning back to face him. “You’ve just been surrounded by death and horror all your... Dead-life, so it’s all you know. I think maybe you’d be alright, if you hung out around here a little more.”

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes right back until they sunk into his head. “Are you trying to psychoanalyse me?” He spat his eyeballs into his hand and squashed them back into their sockets, then stared at the wall. “Because I’m not that deep, ya hear? You’re reaching for something that isn’t there.”

“Who are you talking to?” Lydia asked.

Beetlejuice pointed a painted nail at her wall. “The fourth wall, of course.”

“That’s not-“ Lydia shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Well.” Beetlejuice stood up and stretched. All his joints popped like they were slipping out of their sockets. “I could totally go on a nice little murdering spree now, you did just call me here,” he paused to smile at Lydia, sweet despite his crooked, rotten teeth, “But I won’t. For your sake, babes.”

“Thanks.” Lydia frowned. “I think?”

“Do you think the Maitlands are up? I wanna see the Maitlands, ‘cause let me tell you, there is no one that sexy in the Netherworld.”

“I really don’t think Adam and Barbara want you to sexually assault them in their sleep,” Lydia said seriously. “But they do like living here and I guess you helped with that, so maybe they wouldn’t mind catching up some time.”

“Mm, another time sounds good.” Beetlejuice ran a hand over his wild hair, flattening it to a degree physics shouldn’t allow. “I should clean up my act a little first if I ever want a chance with those guys.”

“You don’t have a-“ Lydia shook her head. He could figure that out on his own. He probably had a few braincells left.

“Do you think old Chucky would adopt me?” Beetlejuice mused abruptly, pacing in a small circle. “Do you think it would have the same effect as getting married? Is a few millennia too old to come to high school with you? I’ll pull your hair and tell your crush that you like them.”

Although Beetlejuice didn’t paint the most endearing picture of being an older brother Lydia didn’t despise the idea of him hanging around a bit. She’d have to start a new school at the end of summer and it had taken her a good three years to make friends at her old school. Even then they were just people she ate lunch and did homework with; when they went to the cinema or into the city Lydia was never invited. It was probably quite sad and desperate to keep a demon around just to be her friend, her terrifying, murderous friend, but Beetlejuice didn’t seem to mind.

Plus, he made her feel kind of alright. He was a murderer and it didn’t seem to bother him. And seeing him happy and normal, as normal as he could possibly be, eased the turmoil in Lydia’s mind.

“I don’t think my dad’s looking to adopt a million-year-old baby,” Lydia said. “But if you want to hang around in the world of the living I’m happy to be a bit more liberal with the B-words.”

“Oh babes.” Beetlejuice reached out to give her an unnecessary pat on the head. “You’re a doll, a pal, the best breather a demon could ask for.”

“But you can’t kill anyone if I call you.” Emily probably would’ve liked Beetlejuice. He was like a fun little game of Russian roulette: danger and uncertain death.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess that’s fair,” Beetlejuice mumbled. “Now you’ve got to get some sleep young lady, so how’s about hitting me that triple whammy again?”

“Wai- What?”

“To send me back to the Netherworld. As much as I wanna stay and chat I was otherwise occupied before you summoned me.” He gestured to his pants, then curled one hand into a fist and shook it back and forth. “Know what I mean?”

“So all we had to do to send you back to the Netherworld was say your name three times? I didn’t have to marry you? Or kill you?”

Beetlejuice flattened his mouth into a neutral expression and raised his eyebrows. “Guess not.”

Lydia had every mind to send him away right then, without even saying goodbye, when he lunged forward and snatched up her chainsaw.

“Can I have this?” He asked, slinging it over his shoulder. “I really want it, that thing’s useless.” He gestured to the dismembered penis he’d arrived with.

Lydia groaned, concentrating very hard on picturing her favourite spider rather than what Beetlejuice would do with her chainsaw. “Sure, sure, just take it and never mention it again.”

“Will do, babes.” Beetlejuice positioned himself in the middle of her then stared inquiringly at Lydia.

“Thank you,” Lydia whispered softly. “You’re... Not the worst. See you round, Beetlejuice.”

“You’d better. The afterlife is boring as shit.”

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.”

A blinding flash of light, like copper on a bonfire, filled the room and Lydia was suddenly alone. No, not alone, just by herself. And that was okay.

She turned around and crawled back under the covers, her mind replaying her previous conversation rather than Beetlejuice crumpling to the ground, sculpture in his chest.

Just as she was about to fall asleep Lydia remembered something. She was not on her own; Beetlejuice had left someone’s, God knew who’s, dick at the bottom of her bed. That would be incredibly awkward to explain to her family in the morning. Well, she supposed she’d just have to call Beetlejuice back to come and get it.

Tomorrow.

Right now she needed to catch up on three nights worth of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! My tumblr's everyonewholovesmehasdied if you ever wanna chat about this awesome musical or ask for more fic, I'm always willing to write stuff!


End file.
